Brainy and the Beast
by Lady Norbert
Summary: A crossover of Harry Potter with Disney's Beauty and the Beast, featuring Ron and Hermione. Silly, romantic, and lots of fun!
1. A Girl, a Rose, and a Prince

  
  
**A/N:** I know, the title is awful. The story is better (I think). This is a cross between HP and _Beauty and the Beast_. I'm mainly referencing the Disney movie, but I've removed certain elements of the film, like the talking household objects.   
  
Did you ever notice that in that movie, Belle has brown hair and brown eyes, and the Prince that the Beast becomes at the end has red hair and blue eyes? (As a brunette married to a red-haired man, you can imagine how much I enjoyed that.) Does that remind you of any particular HP characters? Yeah, me too. However, I found myself a little stuck when it came to finding a place in the story for our hero Harry! So he's going to take on the role of Hermione's brother, instead of her father, whom she rescues from the Beast. It's also a somewhat abbreviated version of the story (in part because I don't write musicals -- although there's a little of that in here too). I hate messing with canon that way, but what can you do? I hope the story is to your liking!  
  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Anything you recognize from "Beauty and the Beast" belongs to Disney. Anything you don't recognize means you haven't been paying attention, because I daresay there's precious little in here that's going to be terribly original -- though I did take a few liberties with the storyline, changing chronology and borrowing a few elements from the original fairy tale, just to make it move a little faster. You know, fewer cliffhangers and all.  
  


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This is the story of a girl, a rose, and a Prince. He was the youngest Prince of the rather large royal family, and often felt overshadowed by his valiant older brothers. When he was a very young man, the Prince was sent away from his family to live in a faraway castle, where he was quite lonely. He grew sullen and sulky, and drew even more into himself and away from others.   
  
One stormy winter's night, an elderly beggar woman stopped at the castle and begged for shelter. She had no money, but offered instead a magical rose in exchange for a night's lodging. The Prince, being not in one of his better moods, sent her away. She warned him not to be deceived by appearances, but he still dismissed her. At his words, the woman's rags fell away from her, and she resumed her true form -- that of a beautiful enchantress. The Prince fell to his knees, begging forgiveness, but it was too late. She transformed him into a hideous, hairy beast, and placed the entire castle under a powerful spell.   
  
One ray of hope she left to him. The enchanted rose she had offered would remain in his possession, blooming continually, until his twenty-first year. The only way to break the spell he was under would be to learn to love another, and earn her love in return, before the last petal fell. If this did not occur, he would remain a beast forever. As the years passed, and he grew into his late teens, his despair increased...who would ever look past his ugliness and learn to love him?   
  
  
  
Not far from the castle was the provincial village of Hogsmeade. This village bears mentioning because, in a cottage on its outskirts, there dwelt a young man and his sister. The man was called Harry; the other villagers thought he was nice, but a bit strange, and tended to keep their distance from him just a bit. They said he had encountered a great evil as a young child, and though he had vanquished it, the meeting had left him less than sane. His sister, too, was considered an object of curiosity. Her name was Hermione, but because she spent so much time reading and studying, people often referred to her behind her back as Brainy.  
  
Also in this village was a handsome, arrogant man named Draco. He was pleasant enough to look at, with his silvery blond hair and deep gray eyes; he was also wealthy, and used his family's money to curry the favor of those around him who might prove useful. Though most of the girls in the village pined for him, and argued over which of them he might marry, the one he had set his sights on was Hermione. Perhaps it was because he didn't interest her at all; perhaps it was because she was, apart from highly intelligent, rather pretty; or perhaps it was for reasons that no one has ever considered. Whatever the cause, Draco had determined that he would marry Hermione, whether she liked it or not.   
  
Now, it came to pass, one particularly glorious autumn, that Harry left home on a trip expected to last several days. Harry and Hermione's father had been in exports, and several years earlier, one of his ships had been lost; recently it had been found, and Harry was journeying to reclaim what was left of its cargo. So he saddled their only horse, embraced his sister, and set off.   
  
Draco seized the opportunity of her brother's absence to attempt to convince Hermione to marry him. He embroidered for her images of their married life -- a spacious manor in the countryside, where she could massage his feet and their many sons could play with his hunting dogs. For some strange reason, Hermione didn't seem to find this picture too appealing. She thought Draco attractive, felt a little flattered by his interest in her, but refused him. He left, dejected but determined.   
  
  
  
Harry, meanwhile, never reached his destination. At some point he apparently took a wrong turn, or perhaps he had read the map wrong, or maybe he simply had no idea where he was going. Whatever the case, he found himself at the gates of a mysterious castle deep in the woods. Curious, he dismounted the horse and let himself into what looked to be a rather cozy foyer. A roaring fire soon warmed him, and from out of nowhere, a table appeared at his elbow, laden with hot tea and biscuits. As he made himself a bit more comfortable, he became suddenly aware of a presence in the room.   
  
"Who are you?" growled a low voice. "Why are you here?"   
  
"I -- I was lost and I -- I just needed to rest, I'm s-sorry..." Harry turned his head and gasped. The creature staring malevolently at him from a corner seemed part lion, part bear, and all terrifying.   
  
"You're not welcome here!" it snarled.   
  
"I'm sorry, I -- I just -- _achoo!_" Harry sneezed. "I needed to rest, please, forgive the intrusion."   
  
"I'll give you a place to _rest,_" the beast hissed. Harry shrank back into the chair as the creature approached and reached for him. Outside the castle, Harry's horse heard him screaming in terror, and took flight.   
It was late when the rickety wagon reached the tavern in Hogsmeade.   
  
"I don't normally leave the asylum in the middle of the night," wheezed the man it had brought. He was skeletally thin, with greasy hair and a chilling smile. "They said you'd make it worth my while."   
  
Draco, flanked by his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, tossed a small money bag on the table. The man from the asylum examined its contents and nodded. "I'm listening."   
  
"Here's the thing. It's my intention to marry Hermione, but she needs...encouragement." Since her rejection of his marriage proposal, Draco's desire for Hermione had escalated to the level of obsession. He had sent for the manager of the insane asylum, an old friend of his father's, with a fully formed plan in his mind. "And everyone knows that brother of hers is a lunatic."   
  
"Harry is perfectly harmless," the older man objected.   
  
"The point is, she'd do anything to keep him out of your establishment," Draco continued. "Anything."   
  
"So...you want me to threaten to lock up her brother, unless she agrees to marry you?" The asylum manager shook his head slowly. "That is just despicable...I _love_ it."   
_Coming up: Hermione meets the Beast, Harry's health begins to fail, and someone has dirt on their nose._  
  



	2. Could she be the one?

  
  
Hermione, after turning down Draco's proposal, had wandered out to the back of the small property she shared with her brother. She had a marvelous view from this hilltop, of a rushing river and far-off mountains, and as she gazed out over the majesty she wished, for the thousandth time or more, that she could leave this village and find some true adventure. Most people thought she had spent too much time in the dreamworld of her books; they couldn't understand why she might possibly want more than the daily routine provided by their small town. Draco, certainly, would never understand Hermione's dreaming of anything beyond what he could offer her. Only Harry ever even vaguely understood how she felt. He was all she had in the world of family, and the one stipulation of her dreams was that whatever adventures might come to pass for her, they would not result in great separation for Hermione and her beloved brother.   
  
A shrill whinny broke through her reverie, and she looked around wildly. The horse, their only horse which had just the previous day carried her brother away, had found his way back to their small house. He had clearly run a long way, judging by the eagerness with which he plunged his mouth into the watering trough.   
  
"Where's Harry??" she asked the horse. She hadn't really expected an answer, of course, but she tethered him to the gatepost while she dashed inside for her traveling cloak. He pawed the ground anxiously, his eyes rolling with terror, and it was several minutes before Hermione could soothe the beast to the point where she could mount. "You have to take me to him, he must be in trouble!"   
She had been gone perhaps half an hour when Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and the asylum warden arrived. Draco pounded lazily on the door. "Hermione! Harry!" he called sharply, but of course there was no response.   
  
"They have to come home sometime," he growled. "Goyle -- stay here and stand watch at the door. The instant they come home, come and find me."   
Night had fallen before Hermione's hours of desperate searching through the woods brought her to the castle gate. The horse shied and whinnied shrilly, unwilling to pass through the gates again. She dismounted and stroked his muzzle, murmuring softly. Leaving him tethered outside, she cautiously made her way through the doors.   
  
"Harry?" she called, her voice echoing through the empty halls. "Harry, are you here?" Spotting a staircase, she began to climb, a mounting sense of dread welling in her heart. Slowly, she moved throughout the palace, calling her brother's name.   
  
A rough spurt of coughing made her stop cold on the landing of a stairwell. "H-Harry?"   
  
"Hermione?" He sneezed.   
  
"Harry!" She dashed the rest of the way down the stairs, finding herself in an icy dungeon. Harry's slight form lay wheezing in a corner, surrounded by dirty, matted straw. He was chained to a wall.   
  
"Harry, where are we?"   
  
"How did you find me?" he asked weakly. She grasped his hand.   
  
"You're freezing. I have to get you out of there."   
  
"Listen to me, Hermione. I want you to get out of here. This is Slytherin Dungeon, and it's guarded by a -- a --" His voice broke off in another fit of coughing.   
  
Hermione moved to press a hand to Harry's burning forehead, but before she touched him, she was roughly grabbed by an unseen hand and whirled around.   
  
"Who are you? Why have you come here?" growled a harsh voice from the shadows.   
  
"I -- I'm here to collect my brother," she replied, more courageously than she felt. "Please, I beg you, let him go. He's sick."   
  
"Then he shouldn't have trespassed here!"   
  
"But he could die...please, I'll do anything!"   
  
"There's nothing _you_ can do...he's my prisoner." The voice was still growling, but not quite as harshly.   
  
Hermione hesitated. "Take me instead."   
  
There was a pause. "You...you would take his place?"   
  
"No, Hermione!" cried Harry, still wheezing.   
  
"If I did," she said sharply, "would you let him go?"   
  
"Only if you promise to stay here forever."   
  
She frowned slightly. The voice's owner was still cloaked in shadow. "Come forward, into the light."   
  
Slowly he moved...first one hairy leg, then another...the massive form of the Beast towered over her. His thick, red hair hung around his face like a lion's mane, his shaggy body hunched. She shuddered and pressed her face to Harry's shoulder.   
  
"Hermione, I forbid you! You don't know what you're doing!"   
  
Sighing, Hermione pulled away from him. She stood and faced the Beast. She could barely stand the thought of what she was about to do, but if it was the only way to save her brother's life... "I promise."   
  
"Done!" said the Beast, and moved past her to break the chains binding Harry to the wall. He rushed to embrace his sister. "Hermione, listen to me, I can't leave you here, I can't -- "   
  
The Beast siezed Harry roughly by his cloak and dragged him from the room, ignoring Hermione's pleas for him to wait. "Please, spare my sister," Harry begged the creature.  
  
"She's no longer yours to be concerned with," snapped the Beast, "but have no fear. No harm will come to her." He dragged Harry outside to the courtyard, where a horseless carriage had stood moldering for many years. Pulling open one rusted door, he shoved the young man inside and slammed it again. "Take him to the village!" he ordered, and the wheels, vine-covered from ages of unuse, slowly began to turn. It rolled down the path and out of the gate into the forest.   
Hermione watched the carriage from a small window in the dungeon wall. She was not a very emotional girl, but now she gave in to a great storm of weeping. As the Beast came back into the room, he saw that she had curled herself up into a ball on the same spot where her brother had lain. "You didn't even let me say goodbye!" she shouted. "I'll never see him again, and I didn't...get to...say goodbye..." She continued crying.   
  
The Beast was a little uncomfortable with this. He had spent the last nine years in complete solitude, save for the invisible servants who prepared his meals and cleaned the castle. Now, suddenly no longer alone, he surprised himself by feeling guilty about causing the girl so much pain. "I'll show you to your room."   
  
"My -- my room?" she asked, looking up at him. "But I thought -- "   
  
"Do you _want_ to stay in Slytherin Dungeon?" he demanded.   
  
"No."   
  
"Then follow me." She rose and trailed in his great shadow as he stomped up the stairs.   
They walked through the splendid, though rather dark, castle up to a large door. He opened it and ushered her inside. The room in which Hermione found herself was warm and comfortable, furnished in red and gold, with a roaring fire in the fireplace. "This is Gryffindor Tower," he said gruffly. "It's yours. The castle is your home now, so you may go wherever you like -- except the third floor."   
  
"What's on the third -- "   
  
"It's forbidden!" he yelled, so fiercely that she shrank back timidly. She sank into an armchair by the fire, and he moved to the door.   
  
"You...you will join me for dinner. That's not a request!" he added, and shut the door harshly as he left. Hermione stared at the fire, tears still leaking from her eyes, and wondered where her brother was now.   
The horseless carriage had deposited Harry at the edge of the village. Coughing, wheezing, and shaking with cold, he had dragged himself back to the small cottage and curled up under a heavy blanket. Goyle, asleep on the woodpile, did not see him, and was himself unnoticed by Harry, sick as he was.   
  
"I must sleep," Harry told himself. "In the morning, I'll go in search of that castle, and I'll get her out -- or die trying."   
The Beast paced back and forth before the great fire in his dining hall. The servants had prepared a sumptious banquet and departed, leaving him alone with his thoughts.   
  
_Could she be the one?_ he wondered. _The one who will save me? How can she ever learn to love me? She's beautiful...I don't remember ever seeing such a beautiful girl before. All that brown hair, and those dark eyes..._ He paused in his pacing, then continued. _But where **is** she? I told her to come down!_ There was a stirring of movement, and the door at the far end of the hall opened. Hermione entered. The Beast stopped pacing at once and watched her.   
  
Hermione moved with a kind of slow grace to the table and sat down. Having gotten over her first shock at the sight of him, she could now look at the Beast more steadily, and grow more accustomed to his appearance. He did have rather handsome eyes, she observed. Bright blue, like the sky -- not steely gray like Draco's.   
  
The buffet in front of her seemed to puzzle Hermione just a little. "Eat whatever you like," the Beast told her. She spooned up a few mouthfuls of the different foods onto her plate and started sampling, surprised at how hungry she was.   
  
"I am the Beast," he said, still watching her. "You may call me that. May...may I ask your name?"   
  
She regarded him a little coldly, still smarting from his ill treatment of her sick brother, but replied, "Hermione."   
  
"Hermione." He nodded. "I, uh, I hope you like it here." _If he had skin instead of hair,_ she thought, _he would be blushing._ For the life of her, she couldn't understand why.   
  
She made no response to this, but finished what was on her plate. "If you will excuse me...Beast...I'm very tired." She stood up quickly and walked to the door by which she had entered the room. At the threshold, she glanced back at him, a small scowl crossing her features.   
  
"You've got dirt on your nose, did you know? Good night." The door closed softly behind her as she left.   
  
The Beast let out a bellow of irritation and frustration. Turning to the door opposite the one Hermione had used, he raced up to the third floor, where he kept the enchanted rose under a glass dome for protection. Beside it lay a small hand mirror, the only other magical item in the whole castle, which he seized. He glared at his reflection -- he _did_ have dirt on his nose, blast it -- and snarled, "Show me the girl."   
  
The face of the Beast in the mirror swirled in a violent array of colors, then cleared to show Hermione. She was seated in that same chair by the fire in her room, looking resolute. "Humph," he could hear her muttering to herself. "He throws my brother out into the cold to die, then tries to make nice with me? I don't want to have anything to do with him!"   
  
"I'm fooling myself," the Beast sighed as the image vanished. He put the mirror back down and hung his head. "She'll never see me as anything but a monster."   
_Coming up: Beastly tantrums, books, and a bloody battle._  
  



	3. Fights and Friendship

  
  
The Beast abandoned his chambers and stalked outside, where a few hours spent storming around the castle courtyards helped improve his mood slightly. He knew that Hermione was probably his best and only chance of ever regaining his humanity, but he didn't have the first idea of how to go about winning her love. At the moment, she didn't even like him. He paused by a small pool in the gardens, glowering at his own reflection. Irritably, he dipped one shaggy paw into the water to shatter the image, then lifted it, dripping, to clean the dirt off of his nose.   
Hermione sulked by her fireplace for awhile, missing Harry and wondering about this strange new life she had accepted for herself. Certainly she was comfortable; she'd never lived in such a grand room, or been anywhere near a castle before tonight. The food at her dinner had been excellent. Everything about the place was perfect, in fact, except for her host.   
  
She considered the Beast briefly. Logic, which was ever Hermione's friend, told her that unless she wanted to remain in complete solitude for the rest of her life, her only choice was to learn to tolerate the creature's presence. He'd been relatively pleasant at dinner, seemed anxious for her comfort, and as far as hideous beings went, he wasn't _that_ awful to look upon. There had been something curious about his eyes, the one attractive feature he possessed; something untouchable seemed to rest in their depths, a kind of ancient longing for...what? She shook her head. She had no patience for mysteries, not tonight. Whatever the Beast's secret was, he was well pleased to keep it and she would simply learn to coexist with him.   
  
He did say she could go wherever she liked, except the third floor. What was on the third floor?   
  
She shifted restlessly in her chair. If only she'd known what she was coming to when she'd left home, she would have brought one or two of her favorite books along for company. Suddenly Hermione brightened -- surely, somewhere in this gigantic castle, there would be a library! There had to be at least _one_ book in some dusty chamber someplace. She would go and find it.   
Hermione might have walked for hours, she had no idea. She'd climbed up and down so many stairs, she didn't know where she was or how to get back to her tower. Everything she passed was beautiful -- ornately framed paintings, elegant statuary, handsomely carved furniture. But not a single bookcase seemed to be rotting in a corner.   
  
It is more likely than not that she was merely lost when she turned the handle on the door to the third floor chamber.   
  
The room in which Hermione found herself was a total disaster. Things were overturned, smashed, disheveled. Cobwebs dangled here and there throughout the dusty chamber. More than once, as she walked through the room, she almost tripped over a broken chair or table.   
  
There was one picture hanging on the wall. It had probably been a fine painting at one time, but it apparently had fallen victim to a massive tantrum of the Beast's, for enormous claws had viciously shredded the canvas. She strained to view the remnants in the darkness; she could make out most of the face of a young man, freckled and red-haired, with bright blue eyes and a slightly prominent nose. Hardly a comparison to Draco in the looks department, she supposed, but there was nonetheless something rather appealing about the face -- or rather, what was left of it.   
  
She turned in the direction of moonlight filtering through a window, and gasped. There was one piece of furniture in the whole room still intact, a table. A small hand mirror lay on the table beside a glass dome. She approached it with caution and curiosity. Under the dome was a magnificent rose, gleaming in the moonlight, the blossom as red as rubies. She'd never seen a lovelier flower. True, a few petals lay scattered on the table; it was wilting slightly, she observed, and she wondered how it managed to be growing there at all. She stood and simply admired it for a moment; then, with more nerve than she would have thought she possessed, she picked up the dome and lifted it off of the rose. Setting it aside gently, she moved her hand to touch the flower.   
  
A shadow fell across her. Looking up, she wondered how long the Beast had been in the room with her. She backed away slowly, horrified by the expression in his eyes.   
  
He didn't speak right away, but seized the dome and put it back into place, still glaring at her. "I told you not to come here," he growled in a low tone. "Why did you come here?"   
  
"I - I'm sorry, I -- "   
  
"Do you have _any_ idea what you could have done?" He was beginning to shout, and it scared her. She continued to back away and he abandoned the rose, moving toward her, shoving aside the broken furnishings in his path.   
  
"Please, stop!" she cried.   
  
"_Get OUT!_" he bellowed, smashing the nearest chair frame for emphasis. She fled, and he suddenly stopped shouting.   
  
"Oh, no," he muttered, dropping his face into his palm.   
Hermione, blinded by panic, managed to find her way down to the main foyer. Still imagining that the Beast was right behind her, she dashed out into the cold. There was a small paddock in a side yard, where the castle's invisible servants had stabled her horse for the night; she didn't stop to wonder at this, but hauled herself up onto his back and galloped him out of the gate.   
  
The woods were thick with night, the light of the moon barely filtering through the darkness. She had no idea where she was, or where she should go; she chose a path at random through the trees. She reined in sharply, trying to calm down enough to get her bearings, when an acrid smell reached her nose. Turning slowly in the saddle, she saw a massive shape moving closer.   
  
A troll.   
  
She was trapped. The horse was wild with terror at the sight of the foul creature, his whinny so shrill it was like a human scream. He reared back on his hind legs repeatedly, and Hermione slid to the ground. The horse continued rearing, his reins tangling around low branches, and Hermione jumped up to try and calm him. The troll edged closer, a heavy club gripped tightly in one hand. She watched, horrified, as he neared her and lifted the club.   
  
A loud, low growl from behind it made the troll pause and turn. Another large shape flew through the air, knocking the troll off balance and wrestling it to the ground. It took several seconds for Hermione's frightened mind to grasp what was happening: the Beast had followed her, and was fighting the troll to save her.   
  
It was a well-matched fight. The troll was larger and perhaps stronger than the Beast, and its club was wicked, but the Beast had claws and teeth and, fortunately, intelligence. The blood of the troll was black, ugly stuff, and the ground was drenched with it by the time the Beast stood up and looked at Hermione. He'd taken several blows from the heavy club, and looked exhausted and shaky; his right arm was bleeding freely.   
  
  
  
It took all of Hermione's own wits and strength to get herself, the Beast, and the horse back to the castle. She'd thought, briefly, of continuing in her bid for freedom, but it seemed cruel to abandon the injured Beast after he'd killed a troll to protect her. She stabled the horse as quickly as she could, then guided the Beast back to the foyer, where she made him rest by the fire while she attempted to tend his wounds. It was not an easy task; he didn't want to let her near his bleeding arm with the hot water and bandages she'd found waiting there.   
  
"That hurts!" he snapped, when she'd tried yet again to clean his cut.   
  
"Hold still, and it won't hurt so much!" she snapped back.   
  
"This is your fault. If you hadn't run away, this wouldn't have happened." He glared at her, but he was no longer shouting.   
  
"If you hadn't screamed at me, I wouldn't have run away!" she replied hotly.   
  
He frowned. She had a point, and he didn't want to admit it. "Well, you shouldn't have been on the third floor!"   
  
"Well, you should learn to control your temper!"   
  
The Beast couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he sulked. Hermione took his arm -- gently, he noticed. "Now, hold still," she said, still a little testy. "This might sting a bit." She saw him trying to brace himself for the pain, and setting aside the desire to giggle at his expression, she said simply, "Thank you for saving me."   
  
He looked at her, surprised but pleased. "Uh, well, you're welcome." Again she had the feeling that he would have blushed if he'd had skin.   
  
She still didn't exactly like him, Hermione thought later, but he had his good points. And after having seen the troll, she definitely found the Beast less repulsive than she had before.   
Hermione and the Beast discovered, over the next few weeks, that they quarreled. A lot. Usually it was mild. The Beast's table manners were sadly lacking, and Hermione took it upon herself to correct this, which he didn't appreciate too much.   
  
"If I'm going to take meals with you, I expect you to eat properly so I don't lose my own appetite," she admonished him.   
  
"What difference does it make _how_ I eat?"   
  
"The difference is that you don't live by yourself anymore, and I can't stand to watch you shoveling food down your throat!"   
  
The Beast had surprised himself by giving in to her. His big paws had great difficulty wielding cutlery, however, so Hermione had settled for watching him eat as neatly as it is possible to do without knives and spoons. To his immense satisfaction, she declared herself to be quite pleased by the improvement. Perhaps it was for that reason that he continued to try to use silverware.   
Hermione was startled to realize that she was growing to rather like the Beast. He was still rough and coarse sometimes, but she could see that he was trying very hard to be more genteel, and his efforts touched her. They walked together often, when the weather was fair, and talked, or didn't. He didn't say much about his past, and she didn't ask, but he found that he was sometimes good at making her laugh. She had a rich, warm laugh, like honey on toast, and when she smiled it illuminated her whole face. Occasionally she smiled at the Beast, for whatever reason, and something in his stomach did a funny turnover every time it happened. She opened up to him a little more, told him about Harry and their dead parents, and he could see her love for them reflected in her deep brown eyes. He would have given anything to have her look at him that way.   
  
Only once did they touch on the subject of the third floor and her discovery of it. The Beast asked her what she'd been looking for when she went into the forbidden chamber.   
  
"A library."   
  
"What's that?"   
  
She goggled at him. "You don't know what a library is?"   
  
He frowned. "Maybe I used to know, but I've forgotten."   
  
Exasperated, she asked, "Do you know what _books_ are?"   
  
"Yes, I think so."   
  
"A library would have lots of them."   
  
  
  
Snow began falling across the castle grounds one afternoon when the Beast took Hermione to an eastern wing of the castle.   
  
"I have a, uh, surprise for you," he said. "Close your eyes."   
  
She arched an eyebrow at him, a bit skeptically, but then closed them. He was delighted -- clearly, she'd come to trust him at least a little. He opened a door and, gently taking her hands, drew her inside. "Just wait," he said.   
  
Hermione couldn't see yet, but through her eyelids she sensed the room growing brighter; the Beast moved around eagerly, throwing open drapes which had been closed for years. "All right," he said, "now you can open them."   
  
She did so and gasped at once. Shelves upon shelves of books stood before her, ladders reaching almost to the high ceiling. Gilt bindings winked at her in the wintry sunlight. "I can't believe it," she exclaimed, turning around several times to view the entire library. "It's wonderful! I've never seen so many books!"   
  
"You like it?" he asked hopefully.   
  
"Oh, yes!"   
  
A big grin split his face. "It's yours."   
  
She turned to him, wide-eyed. "You -- you're serious?" He nodded. Impulsively, she caught one of his great hairy arms in a hug before scuttling off to climb one of the ladders to the higher shelves. "How can I ever thank you??"   
  
The Beast stood below her, blinking in a sort of daze. "I think you just did," he said, quietly.   
  
  
  
_Coming up: The completely pointless and utterly non-sequitir musical number!_  
  



	4. The NonSequitir Musical Number

  
  
**A/N:** Here it is, the musical number I originally said I wasn't going to write! I was stuck as to where to go next with this story, but a conversation on AIM with Sango-sama proved quite inspirational. "There are invisible servants in this castle, right? Why not let them do their musical number? Let Fred and George and Percy lead them!" She thought Percy was a lot like the character of Cogsworth in the Disney movie. Needless to say, the idea had too much potential not to try it.  
  
This chapter is, therefore, dedicated to Sango-sama (and to the other members of the Harry Potter Plot Bunnies) and to my husband, Kevin, who helped with the song. It's also dedicated to Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie, Greg Proops, Wayne Brady, and the other performers from the wonderful show _Whose Line Is It Anyway?_ because without their inspiration, the Irish jig portion of the song would have been a lot harder to write.   
  
In case it's not glaringly obvious, this chapter has very, _very_ little to do with advancing the plot of this story. It's mainly here for fun and laughs.  
  


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It was the middle of the night at the Beast's castle. Hermione had dozed off in front of the fireplace in Gryffindor Tower, an open book dangling precariously off her lap. The Beast himself was settling down in his own chamber on the third floor, ready to drift off to a pleasant dream about returning to human form and marrying Hermione. A light snow was sprinkling over the grounds outside.   
  
It had been a very good day, he thought. Hermione, aghast at the discovery that the Beast no longer remembered how to read, had set about helping him relearn. This had involved much sitting close together to look at the same book, and several times her hand had brushed lightly over his furry arms as she reached to turn the page. Every time it did, he was astounded by the little electric jolt which rushed through his whole body...and couldn't wait for it to happen again. He let the memory run through his mind one last time before he fell asleep.   
  
But downstairs...   
  
A small fire continued to burn in the fireplace of the palace kitchen. The room was quiet -- too quiet. It seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Finally, something did.   
  
The fireplace gave what could be compared to a great sneeze, and a tall, thin, redheaded young man came tumbling out of its depths. He got quickly to his feet and straightened the spectacles which sat crookedly on his long nose. Two more "sneezes" produced two more redheaded young men, identical to their last freckle, shorter and stockier than the first. They brushed soot from their fine garments and looked around, blinking in the dimness.   
  
"Where do you suppose he is?" said one.   
  
"Asleep, probably, if he's got any sense left," grumbled the tallest boy. "I still don't know why you insisted on coming here. You know he's got to solve his problem on his own, much as we might like to help him."   
  
"Ah, but Percy, you know you miss him," said the third, grinning. "Besides, we're only going to stay down here for a bit. I don't fancy a search through this giant maze of a castle." His smile faded. "Do you reckon we should have brought Mum?"   
  
"So she could see for herself what her son's temper got him into?" The one called Percy glared at the other two. "You want to break her heart all over again, George? Bad enough she had to be told about the curse he's under. I hope he sorts his problems out soon; she's out of her mind with sorrow as it is, hasn't seen him in years."   
  
"Why was he sent here in the first place, that's what I'd like to know," mused the other twin.   
  
"I don't think you're supposed to ask that sort of thing, Fred," observed George. "Anyway, he's not about, so maybe we could make ourselves at home for a bit?" He looked meaningfully around.   
  
There was a rustling sound, and the air around them seemed to shimmer for a moment. Twenty live, startled-looking people came suddenly into view. They stared at each other for a moment, then at the three visitors.   
  
"Y-Your Highnesses?" one woman ventured. "How did -- why did -- " She appeared lost for words.   
  
"Why are we visible?" asked a man. "We're under the same curse as our master, we aren't supposed to be seen until he meets the terms of the enchantment."   
  
"Has he done that?" whispered yet another servant.   
  
George (Prince George, actually, but let's not be stuffy) shook his head. "Trust me, if that had happened, we would know," he said, a trifle sadly. "And you'd be seeing our whole family, not just the three of us. No, you're just visible because...because..." He trailed off, looking to his brothers for help.   
  
Percy sighed. "Because our presence here tonight has caused a ripple in the enchantment. We" -- he threw an accusing glance at the twins -- "are violating the terms of the magic spell by coming here. The magic appears to be sympathetic, however, so it has granted you a temporary period of visibility. You are, for this brief time, existing outside of the spell."   
  
The servants stared at him. They had no idea what Percy was talking about, but they were visible for a little while, so they decided not to get into it.   
  
"Couldn't offer a fellow something to eat, could you?" asked George hopefully.   
  
"And -- let's have some fun, Perce -- could you sing and dance for us while you cook?" added Fred. Percy shot him a bewildered and somewhat appalled look. The servants, on the other hand, appeared delighted by the request.   
  
"Ooh, we haven't done a musical number in _years_!" squealed one of the maids. "Our master doesn't care for them much."   
  
"Well, then!" George clapped his hands. "Have at it, why don't you?"   
The musical instruments, not being privy to the sympathetic magic which rendered the servants visible, remained hidden from sight. They could be heard quite clearly, however, as they began to play an elegant melody. The servants paired off and started to waltz around the kitchen, collecting dishes from cabinets and putting together an elegant-looking meal for the three visiting princes.   
  
One man jumped up onto a conveniently placed chair and began to sing.   
  
_ In the garden of my master's heart  
A magic rose is growing  
And ever brilliant in the night  
The fire of love is glowing  
  
The rose was planted on the day  
A maiden came from far away  
And gave herself to save her brother  
At once our master came to love her  
  
_ Fred grimaced. "'Love her' as a rhyme for 'brother'?"  
  
The singer tried not to glare. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness," he said stiffly, "but this is the first time I've had the opportunity to sing in about ten years. I find myself inventing the song as I go. If you would care to try it yourself, I'm sure everyone would enjoy the results." He climbed off the chair and looked at Fred expectantly.   
  
"Well, I've never been one to shy away from a challenge!" Fred replied brightly. He jumped to his feet, and the instruments, as though sensing the change of mood, made a smooth transition from the waltz music to a lively, bouncy sort of tune. The servants, who were now setting plates of food in front of Percy and George, also ceased their ballroom dancing and began to perform something more along the lines of Irish step dancing. As they kicked their heels into the air with great energy and surprising skill (they hadn't danced in ten years either, after all), Fred took the singer's spot on the chair and opened his mouth.  
  
_ My brother Ron is such a prat  
He has a real bad temper  
An enchantress wanted to spend the night  
But he would not let her  
  
She offered him a magic rose  
He didn't care in the least  
That wasn't very smart of him  
She turned him into a Beast!  
  
_ The servants danced around Fred in a large circle, stomping the floor rhythmically, and sang, _Oh, ei-dee-die-dee-die-dee-die-dee, die-dee-die-dee-die!_ He grinned, pleased by the encouragement, and went on.  
  
_ So now he's covered with lots of fur  
From his head down to his toes  
Ron, you git, why didn't you  
Just take the stupid rose?  
  
At least there's still some hope for you  
You've found Hermione  
And soon you might be normal again,  
Or as close as you can be!  
  
Oh, ei-dee-die-dee-die-dee-die-dee, die-dee-die-dee-die!_  
  
Fred jumped off the chair and seized a chicken leg from a platter. "Go on, George," he said around a mouthful. "It's your turn!"  
  
George groaned. "I don't want to!" He looked longingly at his plate.  
  
"Hey, it's my turn to eat, it's your turn to sing."  
  
So George climbed reluctantly onto the chair, still ringed by the step-dancing servants.  
  
_ I'm not the song-and-dance type  
This really isn't fun  
I'm not very musical  
Two verses, then I'm done  
  
Ol' Percy didn't want to come  
But we were in the mood --   
Fred to sing and dance with you,  
And me to eat the food!  
  
Oh, ei-dee-die-dee-die-dee-die-dee, die-dee-die-dee-die! Ei-dee-die-dee-die-dee-die-dee, die-dee-die-dee-diiiiiiiiiiie!  
  
_ True to his word, George promptly abandoned the chair and resumed eating.  
  
"All right, then, Perce, do us a number and we'll go on home," said Fred.  
  
"I will not."  
  
"You will, or we'll stay here all night." Fred pulled a small container out of his pocket and waved it threateningly at his older brother. "Don't forget, I've got the Floo powder."  
  
Percy sighed, resigned, and climbed onto the chair. The Irish jig eased into a mellower, folk-music sort of riff, and the servants altered their dancing style accordingly.  
  
_ Feelings  
Whoa-oh-oh, feelings  
_  
At once, the music stopped, the dancers halted, and every pair of eyes in the room locked on Percy.  
  
"_What?_" he asked.  
  
"What in the world was _that_?" asked George in disbelief. "I knew you couldn't sing, Perce, but what was that horrible noise? It sounded like a sick cat!"  
  
Percy, looking indignant, got down from the chair. "You told me to sing," he said accusingly.  
  
"I think the sympathy magic or whatever you called it is wearing off," said Fred, looking around. The dancing servants were fading from view. Before she vanished entirely, one of the women called out to them.  
  
"Thank you, Your Highnesses! This has been great fun!"  
  
"Suppose they enjoyed that, anyway," said George cheerfully. "Best be getting on home, then?"  
  
"Might as well," said Fred, and tossed a handful of powder at the flickering embers in the fireplace. A bright green blaze sprang to life at once. "After you, Percy."   
  
  
  
**A/N:** Was that incredibly silly or what? Please leave a contribution in the little box. Thank you and drive through. =)  
  
_Coming up: Hermione learns to play chess, and the Beast learns to let go of what he loves most._  
  



	5. Chess and Mirrors

  
  
If Hermione had at any point considered teaching the Beast how to waltz, she put those thoughts hastily aside one afternoon while they walked through the snowy gardens. While not precisely clumsy, the Beast was very ungainly, owing in part to the enormous upper body he was forced to carry around on rather small, almost catlike legs; he avoided walking on all fours whenever he could help it. The damp paths and the slippery nature of snow only added to his difficulties, and when he had fallen for the third time she suggested they go inside and warm themselves at the fire.   
  
She wasn't sure exactly when she had started to think of the castle as "home," but she was discovering more and more things she genuinely enjoyed about the place. One of her favorite aspects was the fact that she and the Beast chose a different room in which to spend the afternoon each day, and they never seemed to run out of options. Once they had weathered a blustery snowstorm by reading Spenser's _Faerie Queene_ in a formal sitting room hung with rose silk curtains. Another time, when it was sunny and cold, the servants had built up the fire in a huge drawing room filled with tapestries of great battles. The Beast had been terribly uncomfortable, though he tried to hide it, on the day they had occupied a long gallery filled with portraits. Most of them seemed to be of a family, all red-haired and freckled, bearing various degrees of resemblance to the young man whose shredded portrait she had discovered on her first night.   
  
On the occasion of the Beast's clumsy stroll in the snow, they went to settle themselves at the fireplace of a small room on the second floor. The walls were paneled in a rich, dark wood that made the chamber seem deliciously cozy and warm. Two large wing chairs sat opposite each other at the fireside, and between them rested a table bearing an elegant chess set. The pieces were carved of two different shades of wood, their bases ornamented with gold, and these caught the firelight and gleamed.   
  
The Beast cast a bemused look at the game. "I haven't touched chess pieces in ages."   
  
"You play?" Hermione looked surprised.   
  
"I used to. Do you?"   
  
"No, not really. I mean, I've never learned how." The Beast, delighted at the opportunity to teach Hermione something, ushered her into a chair and began explaining the pieces.   
  
She lost her first game, of course. This didn't go over very well with Hermione, and she crossly challenged the Beast to a rematch. He accepted, and the afternoon flew past. Each day thereafter, they would find the chess set ready for play in any room where they intended to spend time.   
"You've been here for two months," the Beast remarked casually one morning at breakfast.   
  
Hermione glanced at him over her bowl of porridge. "I know."   
  
"I just thought...I mean, I wondered...would you...would you like to celebrate this?"   
  
_He's doing it again,_ she thought. _ If he weren't so hairy he'd be blushing._ "What did you have in mind?" she asked finally.   
  
"I thought maybe...uh..." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, we can have dinner like we usually do, and uh...maybe play chess?"   
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How is that different from any other day?" Her voice was not skeptical, but gently puzzled.   
  
"It's...oh. I guess it isn't." He dropped his gaze.   
  
She relented. "Maybe we could dress formally?"   
  
"If you want..." He glanced up again, his blue eyes not quite daring to be hopeful.   
  
"Okay, when?"   
  
"Tonight?"   
  
"All right."   
Hermione surprised herself by agonizing over what to wear. Up in Gryffindor Tower, she had a whole closetful of beautiful dresses from which to choose, but she usually opted for simpler attire out of habit. On this night, however, she had left the Beast early in the evening and, after her bath, spent a good hour trying to decide on the perfect gown.   
  
_I must be mad,_ she thought. _It's only the Beast, for heaven's sake._ And yet that was almost the point, whether she wanted to admit it or not.  
  
She finally settled on a dress of soft periwinkle blue, sewn here and there on the skirt with tiny winking diamonds. The invisible handmaid who helped her to dress combed some kind of oil through her hair, making it shiny and sleek instead of bushy, and twisted it up on the back of her head in an intricate knot.  
  
As the grandfather clock chimed seven, she left the tower and descended the grand staircase, carefully holding up her skirts so she wouldn't trip. The Beast was waiting for her on the lowest landing, and she could hear his breath catch as she approached. He was also dressed in blue, to match his eyes, and his velvet coat was accentuated with white lace and gold trim. A blue ribbon tied his mane back away from his face, and he smiled broadly as he gave her his arm.  
  
The long banquet table was laid with the usual gold and silver as they entered the dining room, and dishes of every description began to appear. Soft music wafted from one corner of the chamber, where invisible musicians were no doubt playing their invisible instruments. The Beast pulled out Hermione's chair for her, then seated himself and, to her great surprise and delight, began to eat with the utensils beside his plate. He still couldn't wield them with tremendous grace, but his efforts touched her.   
  
When they had eaten all that they could, and the table had been cleared away, the Beast escorted Hermione to a smaller table near the enormous fireplace, where the now-familiar chess set was ready for play. Hermione, taking the seat behind the light-colored pieces, made the first move. The music grew even softer around them as they began to concentrate on the game.   
  
The Beast took an early lead, capturing several of Hermione's pawns and one of her knights. She began to fight back, with stealth and strategy, and soon began to capture just as many of his pieces as he had taken of hers. The weeks of play had increased her skill, and she stared at the board in determination.   
  
And then the Beast made his fatal move.   
  
It was quite his own fault, really. Hermione had been studying the board, the tip of her pink tongue poking out of one side of her mouth in her concentration. The Beast had made the mistake of looking up at her, and found himself unable to look away. She was radiant in the firelight, an angel in periwinkle blue, but it was that little bit of tongue that he found irresistibly endearing. Watching her more than the board, he put his bishop on the wrong square.  
  
Hermione, her own attention not failing, caught the error at once. With a soft cry of triumph, she slid her queen across the board. "Checkmate," she said, looking up at last with a grin.   
  
The Beast chuckled. Taking his eyes from her face for the briefest moment, he took his king and laid it down in a gesture of defeat. "So I fall to the white queen," he said quietly, gazing at her across the board again. They stared at each other, blue eyes locked on brown, for a short eternity.   
  
  
They were brought back to reality by the scraping sound of the table as it moved away from them. The invisible servants were carrying it away to leave them in privacy. Hermione fussed absently with the skirts of her gown, and the Beast shifted his weight on the chair so that he was close enough to take one of her hands in his own.   
  
"Are...are you happy here, Hermione?"   
  
"Oh, yes," she replied without hesitation, but then her face fell. He watched her with concern.   
  
"What's wrong?"   
  
She sighed. "I just wish I could see my brother again. I miss him so much."   
  
He paused, trying to think of something that would comfort her. Suddenly, he thought of the very thing to make her feel better. "Come with me."   
They went up to that forbidden third floor chamber, where the Beast picked up the mirror. Under the glass, the rose was growing steadily weaker, and losing petals daily.   
  
"This mirror will show you anything. Just ask it. Anything."   
  
Hermione took the offering, looking dubious. "I'd...like to see...my brother. Please." At once the calm reflection began to whirl with bright colors, and when it settled again, she was horrified to see Harry lying on the ground. He was evidently somewhere in the forest, undoubtedly searching for her, and by the look of things, he was very ill indeed.   
  
The Beast watched the color drain from Hermione's face as she stared into the mirror. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "Harry's sick. He may be dying. He's lost out there, somewhere, and he's all alone." She watched the Beast as he turned to stare at the rose, running one great paw over the glass dome. The expression on his face as he turned back to her was one of excruciating pain.   
  
"You must go to him, then."   
  
"What??"  
  
"You're free. You're no longer my prisoner. You have to find your brother, I set you free." He turned away from her again, trying not to let her see what the sacrifice was costing him.   
  
The blood rushed back into Hermione's face as she stared at him in disbelief. "Oh...oh, thank you!" She looked at the mirror again. "I'm coming, Harry!"  
  
She tried to give the mirror back to the Beast, but he shook his head. "Take it with you," he said, "and remember me."  
  
Hermione smiled gently. "Thank you for your understanding," she said softly. She lifted one small pale hand to stroke his face tenderly, then swept out of the room. He watched her go, then watched from the window several minutes later as she mounted her horse and galloped through the castle gates.  
  
"I love you," he told the retreating figure.   
  
  
  
_Coming up: Draco turns Slytherin-green with envy, and the Beast may pay the ultimate price for it_  
  
  
  



	6. To Save Two Lives

  
  
Hermione's horse thundered down the snowy path through the forest. "Harry!" she called as the trees whipped past them. "Harry!"   
  
How long it had been since she'd left the castle she did not know. Minutes? Hours? Time was passing in a blur. Her only thought at the moment was to find her brother before death claimed him. She urged the horse to gallop even faster, then abruptly reined him in and backed up. A solitary figure lay sprawled just off the path, snowflakes drifting into his black hair.   
  
"Harry!" His sister all but leaped from the horse's back and dashed to his side. He was cold, icy cold -- but alive. Thanking the good graces that he was light and slender, she pulled him up and managed to settle him onto the saddle. He moaned softly and leaned forward, resting on the horse's neck, as Hermione hauled herself up behind him.   
  
It took her awhile to find her way out of the forest, but before very long they'd reached their small cottage on the outskirts of the village. Hermione put the horse in his stall and threw a blanket over him; while he started to eat, she guided Harry up the few steps and into the house. Too anxious for his health to pay much attention to the surroundings, she did not see Goyle peering out from under the haymow. When the door had shut, he crawled out and made his way stealthily into the village.   
Harry blinked. An image was swimming into focus, a worried face framed by soft brown hair.   
  
_"Hermione?"_  
  
"Shh." She smoothed hair out of his eyes. "It's all right, Harry. I'm here."   
  
He sat up, looking amazed and delighted. With a small cough, he pulled her into a rough embrace, holding her tightly. "I thought I'd never see you again," he muttered.   
  
She smiled and hugged him back. "I missed you, Harry, I missed you so much."   
  
"But...the Beast!" He drew back and stared at her. "How did you escape?"   
  
"I didn't," she said calmly. "He let me go."   
  
"That -- that horrible -- "   
  
"No, Harry, listen to me. He's different now, he's changed. I don't know how, but he's not a monster anymore. Really." She forced him to lie down again and tucked the blankets up under his chin. He studied her face and realized she was telling him the truth...or at least part of it.   
  
A sudden knock on the door made them both turn. Puzzled, Hermione left Harry's bedside and went to answer it. Opening the door a few inches, she could make out the form of an unfamiliar man, tall and thin, with a wizened, calculating face. "May I help you?"   
  
"I've come to collect your brother," he said in a chilling tone.   
  
"My brother?"   
  
"Don't worry...we'll take good care of him." He stepped back then, and for the first time she could see the wagon beyond him, painted with the words _Asylum for the Mentally Unstable._   
  
Hermione was furious. "My brother is not crazy!" she cried, storming out of the house. She glared from the asylum manager to his burly henchmen, wondering what in the world was going on. Behind her, she heard Harry get out of his bed and come to the door, and she turned to see his bewildered face. Still flushed with fury, she moved back to his side and put a protective arm around his shoulders. The manager beckoned, and his assistants stepped forward and pulled Harry away from her. "Stop!" she shouted, but they ignored her and dragged him toward the wagon.   
  
At that moment, Draco just happened to appear. "What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked in a too-sympathetic voice. His gray eyes widened as he watched the men trying to force Harry into the wagon. "Are they -- they're taking your brother away?"   
  
"You know he isn't crazy, Draco," she said pleadingly.   
  
He nodded gravely. "Perhaps I could sort out this little misunderstanding...if..."   
  
"If what?" She raised an eyebrow.   
  
"If you'll marry me." He stared at her hungrily.  
  
_"What?!"_   
  
"One little word, Hermione, that's all it takes."   
  
"Never!"   
  
"That's not the word I had in mind," he growled. He turned back to the wagon. "Take the nutcase away!"  
  
While he was distracted, Hermione dashed back into the house and grabbed the magic mirror, her gift from the Beast. She ran back out and cried, "If you take him away, _he's_ going to hunt you down!" To the mirror she said, "Show me the Beast!"   
  
She held up the mirror for Draco and the men to see, and as they watched, the whirling colors settled down into an image of the Beast. He was in his third floor chamber, and appeared to be bellowing. Draco's eyes grew wide.   
  
"Let my brother go!" she said angrily, and the asylum workers hastily released Harry, who stumbled back to Hermione's side.   
  
"What _is_ that creature?" Draco demanded.  
  
"He's my friend," she said defensively. Glancing down at the mirror still in her hand, an expression of tenderness dawned on Hermione's face as she repeated, "He's my friend."   
  
Draco's eyes darkened with mingled jealousy and rage. He tore the mirror from Hermione's hands, then grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. "You're mine, Hermione! Mine!" he shouted. "I'm not going to let this -- this _ monster_ take you away from me!" He pushed open the door to her cottage and threw her inside, then grabbed Harry and shoved him in too.  
  
"Crabbe! Goyle!" he called, and they stepped out of the shadows where they had been lurking. "Stand here at the door," he growled, loud enough for Hermione and Harry to overhear. "Don't let them set a foot outside. I'm going to go deal with this hideous _thing_ she calls her friend." To the asylum manager he called, "Stick around, if you don't mind! When I get back you can have Harry after all, unless his sister changes her mind about marrying me!" With the mirror clenched tightly in one hand, his bow and arrows slung over one shoulder, he set off into the forest. Every time he reached a fork in the path, he would order the mirror to show him the correct way to go, and in this way he would soon reach the castle.   
Inside the cottage, Hermione wept in Harry's arms. "It's all my fault," she sobbed. "I have to save the Beast. Harry, what are we going to do?"  
  
Wildly he stared around, hoping to spot something that could help them escape. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't very bright," he muttered. "Maybe we can trick them somehow."  
  
Hermione raised her head. They looked at each other. "I've got an idea," she said softly.   
Crabbe and Goyle stood in the cold, grumbling to each other. Behind them, the door creaked open, and they whirled around, cracking their knuckles threateningly. Hermione stood on the threshold, smiling her sweetest.  
  
"It's awfully cold out there," she said. "I know Harry and I aren't supposed to come out...but wouldn't you like to come in?"   
  
Goyle glanced at Crabbe, who nodded. "Guess that'll be okay," he said thickly. They entered the small cottage, and Hermione ushered them over to the table where Harry sat, eating a bowl of soup.   
  
"I've just made it," she told them, ladling out two giant bowls. "It's nice and hot, should warm you up in no time. Now, eat up!" She set the bowls briskly on the table in front of them and passed them each a wooden spoon.  
  
It was good soup, thick with vegetables and what seemed to be lamb. Crabbe ate three bowlfuls before passing out at the table, snoring loudly. Goyle snorted with laughter before he, too, collapsed into unconsciousness, just barely missing his half-eaten bowl of the soup.  
  
"What did you put in their soup, anyway?" asked Harry, who had long since finished his own.  
  
"A few drops of that stuff Mother used to give us as children when we couldn't sleep," said Hermione. "I bought some from the apothecary a few months ago, when I was having bad dreams...let's go!"  
  
Snatching their cloaks from the pegs near the door, they rushed out to the horse's stall. Harry climbed into the saddle and pulled Hermione up behind him, then urged the horse into the blackness of the forest.   
Draco had reached the castle and stood, just for a moment, basking in the sheer immensity of it. _I claim this,_ he thought. _When the Beast is dead and Hermione is mine, I'll bring her here to live._ Wrapping his arrogance around him like a protective cloak, he stalked through the main doors and gazed around. The sheer opulence was overwhelming. _In this place,_ he thought, _I'll live like a king. I'll _be_ a king! And Hermione will be my queen...that should make her forget her foul Beast._  
  
He cast the mirror aside and unslung his bow. Pulling one of his arrows from the quiver, he moved slowly up the grand staircase, his ears alert for the slightest sound. He nocked the arrow to the bowstring, paused just a moment, then burst into one of the rooms on the second floor, ready to shoot. It was empty. Around the whole second floor he went, bursting into each room only to find it empty. When he had made the complete circuit, he went up to the third floor. His nerves were taut, his arm like a coiled spring, ready to strike.  
  
Nevertheless, he was unprepared for the moment when he finally met the Beast. Alone in his private chamber, the Beast sat, still in his velvet finery, gazing into the crystal dome at the dying rose. Three petals still clung to the wilted stem. As he watched, one broke off and drifted down onto the table. The floor creaked as Draco moved through the shadows, and the Beast looked up in surprise. They stared at each other down the shaft of the arrow -- Draco's gray eyes turned steely with resolve, the Beast's blue ones turned dark with sorrow. Suddenly, Draco realized that the Beast was not going to fight back.  
  
So much the better. The arrow left the bowstring with a sharp twang and buried itself in the Beast's chest.  
  
_Coming up: Endgame on a castle rooftop_  
  



	7. The Rooftop Battle and Its Aftermath

  
  
**A/N:** Welcome, friends, to the big finale! The usual disclaimers apply, of course. I hope you've enjoyed reading this at least as much as I've enjoyed writing it! You'll notice I made some changes to the transformation scene...it's a combination of the movie and the original fairy tale. Oh, and I changed Molly's name a bit; Molly is often a nickname for women named Margaret (I had an aunt named Margaret whom we called Molly), and I thought Margaret sounded a bit more royal.  
  


-----------------------------------

  
  
With a horrific scream of pain, the Beast reared up, clutching at his chest. He lost his balance and toppled through the window, smashing the glass and landing with a thud on the battlements outside. Draco, smiling with great satisfaction, leaped through the hole after him and began attacking the limp and bleeding figure.  
  
"Get up!" he shouted, kicking the Beast, who rolled away from him. "What's the matter, Beast? Too soft to fight back?" He laughed loudly as the Beast sighed in resignation. Again Draco kicked him, and he tumbled off the battlement, onto the level below. Draco pulled out his knife and jumped down after him.  
  
This section of the roof was adorned with several gargoyles, and in the darkness Draco could not discern the living creature among those made of stone. He found a heavy piece of stone, which had evidently broken off of one of the gargoyles when the Beast had landed on it, and he swung it mightily at a figure to his right. It was only another gargoyle, however, and he roared in frustration.  
  
"Come out and fight!" he shouted at the Beast, who was lurking in the shadows, unseen. Draco began to stalk the length of the balustrade, clutching his stone weapon.  
  
"Were you in _love_ with her, Beast?" he called tauntingly. "Did you really think she might want you, when she already had someone like me?"  
  
This was apparently more than the Beast was willing to take, and he lunged out of his shadowy retreat at Draco. He caught the hunter by surprise, and they grappled on the ledge for a moment. But the Beast, mortally wounded as he was, soon collapsed onto the rooftop and ceased to fight back. Draco advanced on him, wielding the stone and grinning viciously. The Beast stared up at him, feeling grateful that the end had come. In his heart, he was dead the moment Hermione left the castle.  
  
From below in the courtyard, a voice echoed up to them.  
  
"Draco!"  
  
The Beast turned, and looked down. Hermione and her brother sat on their horse, and she was staring, horror-struck, up at the scene unfolding on the roof. "Draco, _don't!_" she screamed.  
  
That was all the Beast needed to hear. Above him, Draco lifted the stone above his head and swung it down to the Beast's head. In the crucial split-second before impact, the Beast caught the stone, freezing it mid-arc, and struggled to stand on his hind legs again. His eyes no longer mirrored sorrow, but tremendous fury; life was flowing in him once more. He snapped at Draco with his powerful jaws, and the frightened man stumbled backward.  
  
Down below, Hermione left the horse and Harry and dashed into the castle. Blindly she tore up the staircase, anxiously searching for the room which led out onto the balcony just above the fighting. He had to know...she had to show the Beast that she was here for him.  
They had reached the edge, and the Beast seized Draco by his throat. He swung him about in midair, threatening to drop him off the side of the castle into a ravine. "Don't hurt me!" Draco pleaded, his pale eyes almost white with terror. "Please! Please, I'll do anything!"  
  
His eyes narrowed in hatred, the Beast stared at the pathetic, groveling creature he clutched in one paw. Then, slowly, his expression relaxed into a kind of calm wonder. He _didn't_ really want to kill this man. Looking thoughtful, he pulled Draco back to the safety of the rooftop and forced him to his knees. "Get out," he whispered fiercely, and thrust him aside.  
  
"Beast!"  
  
The Beast turned, gazing upward, and a smile lit his features. "Hermione?"  
  
She was standing on the balcony, which she'd finally located, and held out a hand to him. Ignoring the pain in his chest, he climbed across the rooftop to take her slim hand in his great hairy paw. "Hermione -- you came back!" He lifted the other paw to her face, which was radiant with relief. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the softness of his fur against her cheek.  
  
Her eyes flew open again as the Beast shrieked with pain. Unnoticed by either of them, Draco had slithered up the roof, and plunged his hunting dagger into the Beast's side. He pulled it out, ready to make another strike, but the Beast threw out one arm as he writhed with agony, and it knocked Draco off balance. Arms flailing, he tried and failed to remain on the ledge, and, screaming, he plunged down into the depths of the ravine. There was silence.  
  
The Beast too might have fallen, but Hermione, terrified, had siezed the front of his shirt and pulled him forward. She guided him over the railing and onto the balcony, where he slumped to the floor, his breathing shallow. She crouched at his side, tears beginning to form.  
  
"You...came back," he said breathlessly.  
  
"Of course I came back," she said. "I couldn't let him...oh, this is all my fault." She wrapped her arms around him briefly. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"  
  
"Maybe it's better...this way..."  
  
"Don't say that!" she cried. "You're going to be all right! We're together now and everything will be fine, just wait and see." A lump was growing in her throat and the tears blurred her vision.  
  
He shook his head gently. "At least...I got to see you...one more time," he said softly, lifting his paw to her hair. She took the paw in both of her hands, letting the tears flow from closed eyes. His paw slid from her grasp, and she opened them again. The last thing he saw, before his own eyes closed in death, was her tear-streaked face.  
  
"No!" she wailed. "Please," she begged, "please, Beast, don't leave me, please!" She buried her face in his chest, sobbing. "_I love you._"  
  
In a chamber on the third floor, where no one could see it, the last petal fell from the enchanted rose.   
Still weeping, Hermione again had no idea how much time passed. She wasn't immediately aware of the changes in her surroundings, and only began to notice what was happening when she felt the Beast's body move beneath her. She pulled away and stared, the tears stopping almost at once, as his body was pulled away from her. Everything around them was growing brighter and brighter, until at last she couldn't see anything at all.  
  
_Where am I?_ she wondered. _Where's the Beast? What's going on?_  
  
There was a brilliant flash of light, and suddenly she could see again. The castle was still standing, but it had attained a bright sort of newness. Hermione realized she was still wearing her periwinkle dress, but it felt different...she was clean again. The Beast was nowhere to be found, and she gazed around in profound sadness and bewilderment. From the corner of her eye she sensed movement in the room which led out to the balcony, and she went inside, feeling hopeful.  
  
It was not the Beast she found in there, however, but a young man, perhaps her own age. He was taller than she and thin, with red hair and freckles. He looked vaguely familiar, and Hermione was startled and a bit alarmed to realize that she found him really rather attractive. He was dressed in blue velvet, almost identical to what the Beast had been wearing, and he stared at her across the room in wild astonishment.  
  
"You did it," he said softly. His voice rang in her ears in such a way that she thought she was supposed to recognize it. "I can't believe it...you really did it. So this means..." His voice trailed off, and his face turned very red.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked finally. "Where is -- where is my Beast?"  
  
He blinked. "Hermione...it's me!"   
  
Her confusion and shock rooted her to the spot for a moment, and he took the opportunity to cross the room. In a few long strides he was standing beside her, awkwardly taking her hand in his. She looked up into his sapphire gaze, and in those eyes she saw a suffusion of love and longing she'd only known from one other. A radiant smile slowly crossed her features.  
  
"It _is_ you!" she cried joyfully. He smiled down at her, tenderly trailing his fingers through her soft hair, and finally lowered his lips to cover her own.  
  
Quite a bit of noise suddenly filtered in to them from the hallway. They parted to a hand's length, and a moment later, a short, elegantly dressed woman with red hair rushed into the room.  
  
"Mother!" cried the young man. Sobbing, she hurried to his side and threw her arms around his neck. Smiling with a bit of embarrassment, he hugged her with his free arm until she pulled away.  
  
"Mother, this is Hermione...Hermione, this is my mother, Queen Margaret." His face was still reddish.  
  
"Oh, you darling girl, how can I ever thank you for saving my son?" The Queen moved to Hermione, whose turn it was to receive a teary embrace. Several more red-haired people began to enter the room, each hugging the young man in turn as they laughed and cried. Over the commotion, he introduced them all to Hermione -- his father, King Arthur; his brothers, the princes William, Charles, Percival, Frederick, and George; and his younger sister, Princess Virginia.  
  
Soon Harry found his way into the room, demanding to see his sister. He was startled to see so many people in a formerly vacant castle, and it fell to the plump, motherly queen to explain everything to him. "So, my dear," she concluded, "will you give your consent for your sister to marry my son? They love each other, so all that we still need is for you to agree."  
  
Harry glanced at Hermione, and she nodded. "How can I say no?" he asked, and everyone cheered.  
  
They all began to file out of the room then, and go downstairs to greet the now-visible servants. Hermione and her prince waited until all the others had left ahead of them. "I just want to know one thing before I agree to marry you," she told him.  
  
He looked at her nervously. "What's that?"  
  
She smiled. "What's your name?"  
  
At that he laughed. "It's Ronald," he said, blushing slightly again, "but I'd really rather you call me Ron."  
  
"Ron," she repeated thoughtfully. She liked the sound of it.  
  
He was watching her fondly. "I love you, Hermione," he said softly. "Will you marry me?"  
  
Still smiling, she took his arm. "Yes...Ron."   
_It hardly needs to be added that they were married the very next day, and that from then on, Prince Ronald and his Princess Hermione lived as happily as it is possible to do. Of course Harry came and lived in the castle, too, and it's entirely possible that he eventually married Princess Virginia...but that's another story, for another storyteller._   
  


THE END  
(Now please review!)

  
  



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